


Love is a stupid word

by AlayneBaelish



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: After the events of season 6 but nothing afterwards, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Older Man/Younger Woman, Past Rape/Non-con, only mentioned - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-02 10:15:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21160004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlayneBaelish/pseuds/AlayneBaelish
Summary: Scars have a way of letting us know the past really happened-Hannibal Lector





	Love is a stupid word

**Author's Note:**

> This is a gift for the wonderful artist kaylas-artistry on Tumblr -- and on a sidenote, I love that quote from Red Dragon and thought its meaning was rather fitting some how. Enjoy

The cheers and celebration echoed throughout the night with a new king crowned of the north. The north was theirs again and the feast was as grand as any, and everyone had been in high spirits since they had all won back Winterfell.

Jon had long abandoned his place at head of the table and was seen laughing and drinking amongst his Wildling comrades. Sansa had been present at the feast, not shirking any of her responsibilities as the Lady she always had been, she never refused a single person who approached her during or afterwards but she didn't stick around long after she finished her meal either.

Petyr noticed all of this as he sat and watched from his corner, nursing his same glass of wine he had been offered earlier in the evening. Many eyes, mainly Jon and Brienne had been expecting Petyr to approach Sansa and both had given him more than a few knowing stares _'the don't even think about coming near hers'_ to try and put him off.

He played the gracious guest and stayed in his seat out of the way of the main folk and not in direct eyesight of his lady, picking at his food and sipping more from the cup that contained water than the identical one that had his wine.

The halls were dark with a few scattered candles lit here and there to light peoples way, and the further inward the quieter it became. His knock on the door was only loud enough to attract the attention of those inside the chambers but when no one answered Petyr was taken slightly aback he was easily able to open the chamber door and silently slipped inside only to be confronted with some handmaidens coming from the wash rooms that were tiding up.

He dismissed them all but not before making sure they closed the opened window that had been letting in the freezing cold northern winds and stoked the fire to make sure it blazed warmer.

Petyr made to lock the doors so as to not to be disturbed and went towards the fire briefly and removed his gloves and thick winter coat with his pin resting safely on top, before making his way to the only other opened door and heard the faint sounds of someone washing.

Sansa didn't remove her clothing until her handmaidens had left her alone and made sure they were gone.

The water was hot and welcoming but she couldn't bare to be naked in front of anyone after what Ramsay did to her. It wasn't something to be ashamed of and yet all she felt whenever she caught sight of herself was shame and anger.

The warmth of the fire and the heat of the bath went a long way to help sooth her bodily aches and the wine left beside the bath helped numb the pain inside her heart.

Sansa was faced away from the door and Petyr was greeted with her long fiery red hair flowing loose down her back with the ends floating in the water behind her, she was sitting up straight and sipping from her wine cup and must have heard the creak of the door opening wider for she addressed him as he would the help.

"I don't need help, leave me."

Petyr had left her alone long enough, days even. He had slipped of his golden surcoat and hooked it beside Sansa's garments. He rolled up the sleeves of his dark tunic before he approached her slowly as to not to spook her.

Sansa must not have heard his approach for she startled severely when he gently brushed his fingers through some of her loose locks.

"I said I wanted to be left alone," Sansa reprimanded him again.

The touch of his hands on the back of her neck brought goose pimples to her flesh but she played if off like it was the change in temperature.

The room was dark, their shadows silhouetted on the stones behind them. The fire was their main source of light with a few more candles dripping wax down the mantle and pooled onto the stone floor.

Petyr's hands were delicate, treating her as so, his fingers caressed the back of her neck and through her hair lovingly, getting her used to his touch.

"Being alone is the last thing you need, my love."

"Don't presume to know what I need, Lord Baelish." Sansa's tone was harsh as she spoke as if she knew it was him the whole time, but she allowed for him to continue to brush all her hair back from her face.

His touch was nothing new, it felt familiar, dare she say welcomed even. Ever since she had known him Petyr had always found ways to cup her arm or hold her waist, kiss her hand, brush fingers through her hair and cup her cheeks whenever they spoke.

It was nice to feel cared for again and she allowed it to continue.

Petyr could understand her anger and couldn't blame her for snapping at him like she did. When her hair snagged on his rings more than once he pulled them off to retrieve later and gathered up most of her hair in one hand as he prepared to wash it for her.

As Sansa leant back, her head resting on the thick cloth curved over the edge of the large tub, to make it easier for Petyr to work. Water sloshed as she moved through the water leaving her chest and arms more exposed with the tips of her breasts just barely hidden as long as she didn't move around a lot.

As Sansa moved Petyr caught sight of a nasty looking dark purple-green-yellow bruise on her right shoulder leading down part of her arm and some of her back.

His fingers hovered over it, almost as if afraid to touch it but he refused to breach that gap between them and refused to touch any part of her that showcased her pain. He knew all too well those marks were a source of pain and he refused to do anything that would inevitably lead to cutting his time with her short.

"Are you in any pain my Lady?"

Sansa knew of why he asked the question, her cuts and bruises were hard to cover up when she was so exposed and naked like this but she hated even more how her heart fluttered in excitement at the concern in Petyr's voice.

It had been so long since anyone had shown any genuine concern towards her. She thought that part of herself had died along with everything else on her wedding night but hardened herself before she spoke, "Constantly."

She inwardly cursed at herself for revealing a part of her own truth and put down the wine, loose wits indeed. She hoped by stopping drinking she wouldn't reveal anything else too damning.

The pain of being taken so brutality had been fading with each moment along with her healing body since Ramsay's death but the sting of betrayal and the never ending memories surrounding its happening were always with her and she found drinking helped to numb those memories.

Petyr knew all too well to the pain Sansa was referring, there wasn't a day that went by when his own thoughts wouldn't linger on that confining box with little air as he struggled to hold his insides together as he lay there split open in more ways than one, even as he tried to make sense of what happened to him as he was shipped back home.

The pain, the anger, the shame of it all and knowing there was nothing in his power he could have done that could have changed the outcome. Petyr shook himself from those memories to focus back on Sansa and focused on what little contact between them she was allowing of him, and washed her hair until it smelt like new and was like silk in his fingers.

"Why are you here?"

Sansa's eyes were closed to hide the fact that she was savouring the feeling of the fingers running through her hair and massaging her scalp.

"Because you shouldn't be alone," Petyr's hands held Sansa's head, his wet fingers traced her ears getting a feel of them.

His thumbs tickled behind her ears briefly as they made a delicate path down her jaw and under her chin before making their way back up again.

"I'm not alone. I have Brienne and my brother, Jon" Sansa made a point to remind him, "To protect me and I'm back in my family home where I belong." Her anger was rising again, she was sick of his games and never getting any direct answers from him.

"For how long?" He asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Snow has another bigger war to fight and so few men..."

"What are you trying to get at Lord Baelish?"

"He needs more allies, and what better why to broker them then through marriage."

"Meaning me"

"Perhaps..." Petyr trailed off again, "Or Jon himself. And if that happens what is to become of his unmarried sister?"

Sansa had no answer and so she didn't give one, they were silent for a time as she felt Petyr begin to brush then braid her wet hair.

Sansa's hair was easy to braid and he did so hoping to make her feel comforted, knowing her mother used to like it and would have at one point braided her hair in such a way when she was alive.

It was a cruelty to manipulate her feelings like he was, Sansa felt like crying into the bathwater and tried to stifle her sniffles as her hair was braided so familiarly. "Why are you really here Lord Baelish? And an honest answer this time."

"To give you whatever you need my Lady."

She sat up and reached for her wine cup again, frustrated with his reply but barely finished her sip before the cup was taken from her. "You speak of need again."

Petyr downed the last of it in one go and she was sorely tempted to drink from the bottle just to see what he would do then but stayed where she was and waited to see what he would try next.

"I do," He replied as if she had worded it as a question instead of an angered statement, he tied the end of her hair to hold her braided hair together.

"You don't know what I need!"

"I do," He said again.

Petyr's nonchalance made her want to snap and she asked for her robe that had been draped over a chair. Petyr retrieved it without question and held it up for her with his trademark smirk.

Sansa was unimpressed and she looked so at him, refusing to stand up and expose all of herself to him. Petyr's smirk morphed into a smile of amusement and he held it up higher for her.

As Sansa slowly rose, she turned her back to him and felt him move the robe over her shoulders.

When Sansa stood up and turned from him, Petyr blatantly gave her a once over seeing that her thighs and her shoulder had copped the worst of it and saw the whip marks that were healing on her lower back too.

Neither cared that the ends of the robe got soaked in the water, her arms slid through the long sleeves quickly and Sansa tied the fastens with quick nibble fingers as she stepped clear from her bath. "You cannot begin to fathom what I've endured, so -"

"You and I are stronger than people think."

That made Sansa pause and she looked at Petyr curiously.

"Most people cannot begin to comprehend our afflictions."

It was undignified but Sansa scoffed and the laugh that came out of her mouth sounded sickening, "Our," she corrected herself quickly "_my_ afflictions were caused by you. How many of those few could understand - can say that?" She spat out.

Petyr stood with his back straight and his fingers went to play with the rings on his right hand but when they encountered nothing there he dropped his hands back down to his sides again, "Mine were caused by your mother."

His words felt like a slap to the face and Sansa gasped whether in shock or outrage neither could guess but she marched out of her bathing chamber barefoot on the cold floors and not feeling it in her anger and went back into the larger room to be close to the fire with Petyr hot on her heels, refusing to let her escape.

"Do you blame me? Is that it?" Sansa turned back to Petyr abruptly.

Petyr's head tilted, looking, examining her expression trying to read her emotions, "No, never."

"Then don't you dare compare what you did to me to my mother!"

Petyr looked as if he wanted to say something to refute that but he held his tongue and balled a hand into a fist behind his back, digging his fingernails deep into the flesh of his palm out of Sansa's eyesight in frustration. "As you wish my Lady."

"Stop saying that!" Sansa yelled, "I'm not your Lady, I'm not your love, I am not yours!"

Petyr was unusually quiet and it was the most affected Sansa had seen him all evening but once her anger was unleashed she felt unable to stop.

"I prayed for your return, I bet you didn't know that. I prayed and begged for the pain to stop but it never stopped. When I wasn't being raped I was beaten, when he tired of that it was humiliation. It was a vicious cycle and the memories won't stop!"

_ "Sansa"_ Petyr took a step forward as Sansa finally broke down but she backed away from him panicked.

"I hate this!" Sansa looked around without really looking at anything with her tears drying on her cheeks. "I have this anger inside of me everyday and it won't go away! No one understands ... I walk these familiar halls and all I see is what Ramsay did to me, haunting me. My nightmares are always with me, I turn a corridor and hope I don't hear his footfalls. I pass my old chambers and pray I don't smell his stench. If someone reaches for me I recoil, how could anyone stand to live like this? I thought it would all go away if he died but..."

It felt good to finally unload everything she had been living with and trying to deal with by herself but once she trailed off all she felt afterwards was numb even though her hands were shaking, her whole body was shaking.

It was a long time before anyone spoke afterwards but when Petyr did, he did so like a whisper, "I understand."

Sansa went on like he went unheard but she heard him, her voice no longer sounded angered only defeated, "I hate this. I'm constantly angry and if I'm not, I'm sad ... I think I'm broken."

"Not as broken as me."

That time he got through to her and they both looked at each other with unshed tears in their eyes.

"This will pass my love, your anger won't last."

"How do you know?" It felt like she was in mourning but she didn't know what she was mourning for anymore.

"Because you're strong," Petyr explained, "Stronger than anyone I've known."

"You love me," It sounded like a question and Sansa focused on that one word, love. Ever since the Godswood Petyr had used it in reference to her every time they spoke but it never was properly addressed, neither ever drew attention to it, until now.

"I do," Petyr answered her adamant.

"You can't possibly," Sansa pointed out.

"It's not love" That hurt her, Sansa felt like she was on the verge of tears again. "Love is too poorer a word for how I would describe it," Petyr explained further.

"Obsession?" Sansa needed to know.

"I've known obsession, seen it, experienced first-hand, no that's not it either."

"Then why give me up?" Sansa sounded so small to her own ears and that time a tear did escape.

Petyr looked anguished himself, his eyes closed briefly and he licked his dry lips before he spoke, "Because I learnt that lesson."

"I don't understand..."

"When I fought for a chance for your mother's hand every time I was knocked down I thought love would protect me but all it did was show me that I wasn't worthy enough, and for that I got nearly broken in half. So I aimed high to make myself worthy, and worked my way up all the way onto the king's council" Petyr's chest seemed like it puffed up in pride, causing Sansa to almost smile at the thought as she listened to him, while Petyr never looked away from her looking to see how she would react.

"I, that same little boy from the Fingers became the former Master of Coin, Lord of Harrenhal, Lord Paramount of the Trident but it still meant nothing when I asked for the traitors daughter, Lady Stark's hand."

"You asked for my hand?"

To say Sansa was shocked with that confession was an understatement but the fact that she even had to ask him that follow up question stung.

"I wish I had known."

"Would that have made any difference?"

"I..." The rest of what Sansa was going to say was left unsaid _Guess not_ but Petyr looked at her as if he had heard it regardless.

The hour felt late like they should have gone to bed hours ago, it wouldn't be surprising if the partying had long since died down outside round them while they had been talking but neither of them showed any signs of tiring yet themselves.

"Where do we go from here?"

Sansa saw how Petyr swallowed nervously.

"That's up to you my Lady."

Sansa took in a shuddering breath and was the first one to break eye contact and turned from him. "Can I get you a drink? I think I need one..." Sansa looked for her bottle of wine wondering where she had left it but before she could move away Petyr grasped her hand shocking her nerves into acknowledging him.

"No more running, no more hiding. You want only truth between us, so tell me Sansa what is to be my fate?"

"I" Sansa searched his eyes for an answer while Petyr's eyes pleaded with her. _Anything that is within my power_ echoed into the void between them.

They felt locked in place, neither could look away from the other or knew how much time had passed as they each waited for an answer.

Both of them seemed like they were holding their breath, nervous.

Until a delicate hand reached out, up and caressed through the fine scruff of his face until it was like she was holding his whole cheek in her hand.

It was the most gentle anyone had ever been with Petyr in all his known memory. His eyes closed as he savoured her, dare he say loving touch, and it didn't go unnoticed that it was the first time Sansa had ever initiated it either.

Petyr's eyes opened suddenly when he felt Sansa move closer to him and her other hand came up as she embraced him. Petyr was stunned as she hugged him but he soon raised his hands to her waist awkwardly so she wouldn't let him go so soon. He didn't do anything so boyish like count the seconds she held onto him but Petyr did breathe her in deeply.

It was too soon when she slowly moved back but he didn't resist but wouldn't let Sansa move too far away either, so she was still within arms reach.

"You don't have an answer, do you?"

Sansa lowered her eyes ashamed of herself that she didn't. Petyr held his fingers to her chin raising her face to him, "Decide Sansa, before others choose for you."

The conclusion was always the hardest to accept.

Where there was loyalty, the worse the treachery. The all-consuming anger never would have resided within her if she didn't have such strong feelings in the first place.

The greater the love the worse his betrayal.

It took courage, something Sansa thought Petyr lacked, to confront her anger and face it head on like he did.

He really did mean it when he was giving her what she needed, a chance to unleash her anger and take out her frustration on the person she felt most responsible.

Even if confronting her meant confronting his own death. It was the greatest act of mercy anyone had ever shown Sansa.

It was beautiful, he was beautiful with all his many flaws, insecurities and ruthlessness. And for better or worse they would always define themselves by the scars they carried.

Petyr had been tending the fire, to make sure it wouldn't go out and when Sansa walked past the window she saw the first hint of the sun just beginning to rise. They had been up all night and with the new dawn Sansa felt lighter.

Petyr heard her approach and turned to see Sansa smiling at him, he didn't want to feel so hopeful but her gorgeous smile made his heart skip a beat.

Her fingers grazed the top of his scar where the tunic was opened exposing it. His hand grasped hers to stop her, Sansa felt his nervousness.

"It's okay Petyr," Her eyes softened and she smiled at him reassuringly. She opened a few more of his fastenings exposing more of his chest, Petyr's breathes were coming in faster with anxiety.

Her eyes never left his chest seeing more of the infamous scar, it wasn't as ugly as people had made her to believe though.

Sansa laid her hand flat against it, his chest. Feeling it, him as he took in each breath and looked back into his eyes to see him already watching her.

"Petyr.." Sansa shifted closer, never removing her hand from his chest. His hands held onto her hips, their eyes closed together as Sansa closed the last of the gap between them and kissed him.

**Author's Note:**

> All kudos and comments are welcomed :)


End file.
